The Raven Syndrome
by Rubicon 9 Of Hearts
Summary: On a stormy, dreary night, in the aftermath of the day that changed everything, even in his torn mind can dreams of a dark poem turn into realistic nightmares. Based off 'The Raven', by Edgar Allan Poe. One shot.


**I've been meaning to put this up...**

**See, I really enjoy the works of a certain Edgar Allan Poe. So, upon reading some of his stories and reading some more of Pandora Hearts, this came about. ****Simply, a dream of Leo's based off 'The Raven', by Edgar Allan Poe. After Retrace 65 of course.  
**  
**I do not own Pandora Hearts, or The Raven, in any way.**

The Raven Syndrome

I was lucky the chain only nicked my ribs. Hell, I was lucky to be _alive_.

That attack, the one that sent the iron chain straight through me, could of very well broken a few ribs, or damaged nerves in my back that would possibly leave me paralyzed, or worse; I could of been killed. Even if I am the Baskerville head, the new container for the spirit dwelling in my soul, that blow could of been fatal. No amount of accelerated healing would of been able to help me if anymore damage was inflicted onto me.

Oz-kun may have indirectly saved me, but now the playing field has changed.

Meanwhile, after being taken from the battlefield, courtesy of Vincent and Echo, I was patched up back at the manor. I had still been unconscious at the time, probably for six hours or so. When I woke up, I was laying in bed; fine cotton sheets surrounded me and pillows filled with down-feathers were positioned behind my head. Mmm, so comfy. Vincent had then told me that, even with my granted status, I was fortunate that I'd survived. For that, I was very thankful, because I still had a mission, a mission that was the goal of the Baskervilles.

It needed to be done, no matter the outcome.

Outside, the day had dissolved into night. Everyone else had gone to bed, but I had gone to get a book from the library before turning in. As I was changing into my night clothing, I winced at a sudden pain, then looking down at the stitches that decorated my pale skin. They still hurt a little I guess. I did still feel a little weak from the attack, plus the strain of using Jabberwock, my Chain, for the first time. Vincent had said the day we returned from the battle that I had a slight fever. Side effects probably.

Now turning my attention to the window, I walked over and pressed a hand to the cold glass. Rain now fell against it and I could hear thunder from the darkness just beyond the glass barrier.

"Looks like it's going to be a storm." I muttered plainly before closing the curtain, followed by a flash of lightning. I didn't even flinch.

Letting a deep yawn escape me, I climbed into bed and opened my book, making an effort to read it. I can at least take my mind off certain things, because the night had become much more terrifying for me personally.

Dreams tainted with darkness would find their way into my head. They were stained with blood, recreating a scene from long ago. I would toss and turn in my bed, letting out whimpers and mutterings of forgotten nothings. And the things that would haunt me the most...

Memories of Elliot.

They wouldn't leave, they just wouldn't leave me. Every time I saw him in a dream, my heart would twist painfully and make me cry in my sleep. I would abruptly wake from those memories bombarding my already frail heart, crying up a storm of tears all the while. The first time, after coming to this place, I wondered, 'why am I crying?'. I hadn't actually attended the funeral ether, just watched from afar. But I had to see him one last time before he was buried under the cold earth...forever. And so, I did, when no one else was around. Maybe that's what triggered it.

I do wonder, do these bitter tears mean that deep down inside me, even though I've become destabilized and I seem to have put it past me now, I still miss him?

Ah, of course I do. Elliot, oh dear Elliot, I miss you so very much. It hurts, it really hurts, this pain in my chest. I think then, a part of me died with you; I feel like there's a gaping hole in me now (Not talking about what impaled and nearly killed me). I'm really hurting inside, just because I miss you. I was never over your death, I don't think I ever will. Because that night, I lost you due to my selfish wish that sealed your fate. You protected us, but it was me who did this to you. Yet, you apologized to me, saying "I'm sorry, Leo." Why was that? But still, I will never be over you.

You were the only one who cared for me, yet I was not worthy of you being my friend.

Just, please, listen. I really, honestly, with all my heart, with all that's left of my being, miss you.

My eyelids grow heavy and I realize I can no longer try and stay awake. It must be time once more to succumb to the darkness of my everlasting nightmares. I put the book aside, blow out the candle and snuggle into the cotton sheets. Yes, my eyes are drifting shut, the golden lights growing soft in their glow. My eyes stared straight ahead, not focused on a single point. The lights didn't even seem to faze me. Oddly enough, the voices of past Glens weren't trying to break me ether. Strange indeed.

Limbs grew heavy, numbness setting in, and my eyes finally closed. The dark dreams were about to begin again, that much I knew, when suddenly...

_Tap Tap Tap_

These weary eyes of mine opened and I weakly muttered "Mph...? W-who's there?"

What was the time? Probably around midnight, so who in the world would be here at the door? Maybe it's Vincent. If so, for his sake it better be something of the utmost importance. Otherwise it'd be very creepy (well, he kind of is, even if he is my new self proclaimed servant).

With this thought in mind, I managed to sit up and push the covers aside, yawning (I must be really sleepy tonight) as I put on my slippers and relit the candle. The stitches underneath my nightshirt, underneath the bandages that covered them, strained yet again as I stood, making me grimace for a moment. There was need to be careful, because it would be bad news if they teared and reopened the wound.

"Alright," I said as I made my way to the door, evidence of the many nights I lay awake due to my self-induced insomnia clearly in my voice. "Who ever this is it better be-"

My words cut themselves off as I opened the door, expecting to see someone. No, the light of the candle showed me a dark hall. There was nothing.

With my free hand I let go of the doorknob and ran a hand through my newly trimmed hair. All the while, my thoughts echoed, _'Great. I really am losing it.'_

No, haven't I gone mad already?

Ever since that night, I knew they looked down on me as an insane person who would be better off locked away in an asylum. The only reason they kept me is because they wanted the information I had inside my screwed up head. Vincent then rescued me of course (more like kidnapped), but that's beside the point. Nothing didn't really matter anymore and the only thing I could set my sights on now was destroying that one thing. If I myself have to shatter in the process, so be it! I was even prepared to annihilate the seal on Glen's soul, locked away within me, to do it. Why else was I after the sealing stones?

Hmm, thinking back, that seems so different, because the person in me is not the one being sealed. But, no mater how you toss the dice, I have already fallen into a pit of despair, a well of madness, from which there is only the option is to wither there alone, dying like a malnourished flower. There isn't an avenue of escape; Oz-kun reminded me of that.

I am insane.

Silence hung in the air outside my room; an odd silence, yet there was another feel there. I didn't want to waste my time with this though, rather, sighing and closing the door. Slowly, I dragged my feet across the floor, back towards my bed, and I set the candle down on the nightstand, my chest heavy all the while. I rubbed my eyes, the golden lights still there from having reappeared when I had awoken to that earlier noise. The sheets were how laying limply at my lap, but before I laid down, something stopped me.

I felt as if...there was something else in the room. Or rather..._someone_. Familiar, warm, protective, strong, understanding. The aura I felt in the room...It felt so close to me. Could it be...

"Elliot?" I called out into the dimly lit room. No one answered back.

_'It's just my delusional imagination.'_I concluded. There was no way. That's impossible for him to be here.

You can't bring back someone who's already dead.

For the second time, I blew out the candle and nestled down into the sheets. My eyes easily closed and sleep descended quickly over me.

* * *

I actually wasn't sleeping very well after that. I couldn't really get comfortable and I was half-conscious, yet asleep. Let's put it this way; I was asleep, but within that cold realm I could feel my body twisting around, seeking relief from the discomfort that plagued me. A dream within a dream maybe? I don't know if that's even possible. Maybe it is. I once heard that dreams are infinite realms of possibilities.

Yet, something was keeping me awake, it wanted me awake. Whatever it was, it spread quickly throughout and woke me. A groan slid past my lips and my eyelids fluttered open, faint lights dancing. I didn't feel too well then. Perhaps my fever was still ailing me.

"A glass of water might do me good."

The storm still ragged outside my window. I could hear the rain beating down on the window as I sat up. I stayed there for a moment, simply breathing. My hands lay at my lap and I looked down on them. How many times have these hands graced the smooth white keys of a piano? These hands of mine...how they destroyed...

Suddenly, I heard something that sounded like a soft scurrying. I thought it might be a mouse, in that case I would have Vincent take care of this problem tomorrow, but, once again, my stitches strained at the slight movement I made. This would have to wait, I needed to lay down. Once I did, I placed a hand on the aching wound, laying as still as possible to ease the slight pain.

And there it was again, that noise! Instead of getting up this time, I shifted my head towards were it came from. It sounded like it came from behind the curtains. How weird was that, huh?

"Just outside." I murmured. "Just outside. Just in my head. There's nothing here in this room but me."

I'm still thirsty, my throat is parched and begging for water. Could I afford to venture all the way out to the kitchen? If my stitches were bothering me this much, I shouldn't be moving around. Funny, considering the fact I've been walking around for most of the day, taking care of various things and sitting my own private corner of the library, reading as usual.

"Ah, whatever." Slowly, with one hand to my head to steady myself, I sit up in bed for what seems like the millionth time that night. I was just about to swing my feet over the bed so I could stand, but then, a chill ran through my shoulder.

There was a cold hand on my shoulder.

Startled, I quickly tuned my head to whoever was there, at the same time letting out a frightened yelp. I launched myself backwards into the cream colored sheets and pulling the royal purple comforter close to my chest. All that could probably been seen of me now was my frightened face hiding among the pillows and sheets. As to the issue with the hand, at first I thought it was Vincent, come to check on me and make sure I'm alright. Perhaps it could of been Echo, concern reaching out through her silence, unlike her 'other' self, who is quite clingy around Vincent. No, this was different

A person all dressed in black was standing by my bed, a hat on their head, but pulled down so their eyes were blocked.

"W-who are you?" I demanded. "How did y-you get in h-here?"

The man in black didn't answer, and I was thinking of going for my handgun that I kept nearby, under the matress to be exact. But, the longer I contiued to look at this person, I grew calmer. There was a calm air about this person too. The air felt familar, and I was entraced into drawing myself out of my qucikly formed shelter. Somehow, this person made me feel safe, and yet I didn't know who they were (or how they got in my room).

I could trust this person who appeared before me.

Somehow, I put on a slight grin. The ebony clothed person then pointed to my nightstand and I saw there, a glass of water.

"You...brought this for me?" I asked, careful of my voice. They didn't reply, but I reached over and took the glass anyway. "Thank you."

Oh, how much I savored that coldness, the drink I mean. Whoever this person is, I'm very greatful at least someone brought me something to relive the dryness of my throat.

_'What is this feeling?'_ I wondered as I finish my drink. _'What is it about this person that seems familar? Who do they remind me of?'_

In the wandering of this question, my eyes faintly widened.

"Hey," I set the glass aside and looked at the person, trying to catch a glance at thier eyes. "Are you...wait, never mind. It was a stupid question."

He then takes a step forward, placing a hand on my nightshirt. I am puzzled, but when his hand wanders across the bandgaes and stops, I get it.

"Ah, don't worry, I'm fine." I reasured the man, pushing his hand away. "That wound will heal, even though it nearly killed me. Probably will leave one heck of a scar though."

I closed my eyes and let my shoulders fall slack, a slight chuckle escaping me.

"It's just that...you remind me of someone I knew. He was a very dear friend." My voice nearly choked on the last word. "His name was Elliot; Elliot Nightray. He's dead now, you know. It was all...my fault."

The man in black looked at me blankly. Perhaps he was confused as to what I was talking about.

"Shall I tell you a story? The story of my friend and master, Elliot Nightray, and these sins I've commited."

And so, I began.

"He was a kind person, even though at times he could be a complete idiot. That's kind of how it was when I first met Elliot, arguing with each other. Yet, he kept coming back, and during that time, I would wonder why he returned time after time. Eventually, Elliot told me he wanted to take me in as his servant."

I paused and scoffed, the man in black watching me wordlessly.

"Oh, Elliot. Still, I thank him for that, because that was a truly wonderful moment in my life. But that was the beginning of the end. A short while later, we...we were at Sablier and heard a few children had ventured into the chasm. We were able to find them, but two were dead. One of them was still alive, but then this Chain appeared behind me, and...and..."

Again, I paused, but I felt tears stinging my eyes. A choked sob begain to rise in my chest.

"It attacked him, wounded him fataly. And what did I do? I made him an illegal contractor! I granted my own selfish wish just to save him!"

I broke down.

"We went through our lives after that, but he started having nightmares. He was forgeting things. He didn't have any recollection of that day because of the Chain, and all I could do was watch him suffer. It was right up until the night that he died. Argh! That hypocrite!"

I slammed my fist down onto the bed, but it didn't hurt like I wanted it to.

"H-h-he died. And...it was all b-because of m-m-me...!"

At that point, I just flopped back down on my bed and let out more sobs.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Elliot! I should have died that day, not you! Please forgive me! Please! Please! I miss you, so much that it hurts! It hurts so much, Elliot. So I'm sorry! Forgive me..."

The man is still watching me, I can feel his gaze. I don't care what he thinks of me. I actually want to shut my eyes (which I did), and cry myself to sleep now. But what good would it do if I'm haunted by nightmares of that person? I can't put up with it for much longer, and I still had a mess of things to sort out, not just in my head, but in reality as well. It was what I had learned in the time I was unconscious on the battlefield and what I learned after.

But, I'm such a lowly person. Maybe I should just die. Could I if I tried? I should...just die.

"I know."

My eyes shot open. I knew that voice.

"What?"

"I know, Leo." The voice repeated again, this time saying my name. I dared not to move, not risking the chance of dashing my hopes, whatever slight, faint hope that was.

"You...? Are you-"

Before I could finish my question, I felt someone push my hair away from my face. I was willing to smack their hand away, but upon hearing the voice, it was something I dared not do.

"I know, Leo."

Next thing I knew...someone lightly kissed my cheek.

I felt frozen, because there was only one other person in the room. _'The man in black?'_

No, this was different. Yes, it was this person, but even though the kiss lasted for a mere second, those lips couldn't be mistaken. _He_never kissed me back then, not on my lips, not ever, but there was no mistaking it. Only one person could kiss me like that. And those clothes, now that I thought about it, the man was wearing some kind of formal clothing, with a jacket over it!

"I know, Leo." The voice said again. "I know you're sorry. I forgive you."

It is you!

"ELLIOT!"

I had bolted upright, my hands pressed to the edge of my bed, my eyes seeking out Elliot's face.

He was gone, no one was in this room.

"N-no." My whisper sounded disappointed. "You're gone."

I felt like crying, bursting out into tears that would last till morning, but then, my eyes caught sight of something next to me on the bed. Picking it up, I examined it carefully, a flash from outside lighting it up.

A photograph of me and Elliot.

This photo, oh how it brought back memories, so many painful and joyous memories.

"Where...where have you gone?" I asked the photo. "Will you tell me?"

The photo was silent, and I was actually growing enraged.

"Answer me!" I yelled, not realizing I was leaning further over the edge. My hands slipped up, sliding off the edge, which made me lose my balance and I went tumbling onto the floor.

_'Ow...not my best idea.'_I thought as I rolled onto my back. The photograph lay not too far away, and I was able to reach out and grab it.

"Now will you tell me where you are?" I asked once more. "Are you mocking me?"

Annoyed by the silence of the photo, I shakily stood up. Glancing over at the nightstand, I opened the drawer where I kept my glasses, those now unused glasses. Shoving the photo inside along with this other relic, I then closed the drawer.

_'Good, now for some sleep.'_ I let out a deep yawn and wearily rubbed my eyes. _'I'll speak with Vincent about this tomorrow, maybe there was-'_

My thoughts stopped short when I turned back to the bed, and my breath hitched.

The photo was still there, lying on the bed.

I stood there for a moment, before opening my mouth. "Is this a game, Elliot? A cruel joke? Why do you insist on mocking my loneliness and my pain?"

Once again, my temper was getting the better of me, but I ignored that fact, my eyes glaring daggers at the photo. You know, I've heard of a gift called pyrokenisis. Right now I kind of wish I had that ability, just to see that mocking photo burst into flames, dissolve into ashes.

"Dammit. What is this, Elliot? Why are you doing this to me, leaving me this watching photo of us?" I continued to stare, my voice a combination of misery and pent up anger. "Please, Elliot, I've already apologized. You know I would never forget about you, deep in my heart, the memory remains. So...so just take this thing away."

_"I know, Leo. I forgive you."_

The voice seemed to whisper on the wind as thunder echoed through the room, a few flashes of lightning along with it.

"E-Elliot..."

Suddenly, I felt pain rip through my midsection, sharp pain. I couldn't help but to let an agonizing yelp be ripped from my throat as I collapsed, grabbing the photo at the last second, but it slipped from my hand.

For a moment, as I pressed my hand to the source of this pain, I was panicking, wonder what was going on. But then, I felt something on my hand, like liquid... oh no. Another shot of pain and that confirmed what this was. My guess, which might be very accurate, I put to much strain on my stitches and they've teared open. I can feel blood seeping through my nightshirt and through my fingers.

As I lay there, withering in pain, I saw the photograph finally end its flight and settle down in my small puddle of blood.

How I wish I could return to that time.

Ether way, I couldn't stop the bleeding and I had begun to violently shiver. Soon after, I blacked out.

The only thing that remained in my mind was that picture that followed me around like a shadow, that cursed picture. It is watching me as I slowly and painfully bleed out and die.

* * *

Light stings like daggers to my eyes and I bolt forward, letting out a startled cry.

"Master, calm down."

I frantically looked for the source of that voice, and quickly located Vincent and Echo, who were sitting nearly. Vincent had a slightly surprised look on his face while Echo looked on blankly, holding a wet cloth and a bowl of water.

"Vincent...Echo..." I breathed out, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead like rain.

"Glad to see you're awake." Vincent calmly said as Echo stood. "Looks like you had quite the dream, huh?"

"More like a nightmare." I felt a twinge of pain where my stitches were, but upon gingerly touching them, they appeared to be fine.

"Perhaps it was brought on by your fever. It isn't entirely gone yet."

"Please lay down, Leo-sama." Echo said blankly.

_'You still address me like that?'_I wondered as I compiled to her request. It wasn't that I minded it, it's just that I thought she'd address me as 'Glen-sama'. I slightly twitched when I readjusted in bed and she placed the wet cloth on my forehead.

"Rest." She insisted and walked back to Vincent's side.

"Thanks for the concern." I shot back at them. Vincent didn't seem to be paying attention though.

_'What's got his attention?'_It seemed he was looking at a book, the same one I had been reading last night before I went to bed.

"Fufu, I see." He chuckled.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You were reading this poem, right?" He asked, showing me the book. The poem in question was called 'The Raven'. "You had it marked."

"Yes, I had read that last night."

"Hmm, it would seems your nightmare might have been triggered by reading Poe's works. I've read a few myself, and they are quite dark...and sometimes amusing."

I ignored the creepy tone he had on the last word. "So? I can do as I please."

"It wouldn't surprise me if you had a nightmare similar to this."

Actually, there is good logic in that. Now that I thought about it, the dream did seem similar to that very poem. That photo mocking me like the bird did. The man appearing suddenly like the bird did. The connections were everywhere.

_'That's right.'_ I closed my eyes once more, knowing what I was thinking was true. _'It was only a dream. None of what occurred actually happened. It was an illusion.'_

"Vincent, it was just a dream and nothing more."

He chuckled again. "Nevermore."

"Yeah...nevermore."

Nevermore.


End file.
